Chains
by ACE329
Summary: Walls collapsing, and feet pounding frantically against the dirt floor. Ryou can't help but wonder if this feeling of emptiness is normal. Bakura is dead, and Ryou can't seem to free his mind from the past, even while he's running for his life...RXB


Chains

By: ACE329

Disclaimer: I am not the brilliant mind who has created Yu-gi-oh! © and am also not the creator of Brandi Carlile's "Throw It All Away" or "Tragedy" ©

Summary: Walls collapsing, and feet pounding frantically against the weathered stone floor. Ryou can't help but wonder if this feeling of emptiness is normal. A part of him died when his ring—and the wretched, beautiful spirit that dwelled within it— disappeared into the greedy earth below.

Notes:

1.) Story takes place right after Atem goes into the afterlife.

2.) Slight deviation from canon ;)

3.) Ryou= light, Bakura= spirit of the ring

4.) When Bakura is in his spirit form, he is still tangible

5.) "_Blah blah_"—spirit speaking

_Blah blah_—Ryou thinking, or some imagined inanimate object (lol)

/"_Blah blah_"/– flashback

Author's Note: Hey all! This is a one-shot that came to me randomly while listening to music. I told myself to limit the Ryou/Bakura stories because I'm already writing a pretty big (time-consuming) one, but this little project would be depicting a scenario I know I'll never get the chance to do in Ryou's Story. As always, please take the second to review, it would mean the world to me :)

**WARNING: There IS shonen-ai in here. Nothing too sexual, but highly suggestive…..**

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* * *

**

"_Throw It All Away," by Brandi Carlile_

_I'd throw them all away when I'm hollow  
Deep as the sea goes, all I know is  
I would throw it all away_

_In my restless hour I'm holding  
The words you say that lay my soul to sleep  
I dream of buildings that burn  
The sky turns black I toss and turn_

_

* * *

_

"Chains"

Ryou was suffocating.

He could feel it in the way his lungs would desperately expand like fireworks in the black sky and how his nose burned from trying to filter out the thick dust that hung threateningly in the air. How his throat ached from gulping down the throbbing heat. Droplets of sweat caressed the sides of his face, but he didn't bother to wipe them away. He didn't even bother to brush the hair out of his eyes, which stuck to his face like cheap plaster.

"_This isn't real_," Ryou repeated in his head, over and over again like a soul-searching mantra. Or a prayer. He internally whispered it in beat to his feet rhythmically pounding against the dirt floor. He kept his eyes glued to the backs of Yuugi, Jounouchi, Anzu, Kaiba, Malik, the whole lot of them, running. All the while, walls collapsed against themselves, and boulders slammed against one another in sheer chaos, emitting deafening sounds of destruction. The whole underground tomb the pharaoh had finally allowed himself to disappear in was falling apart, apparently not satisfied with the departure of only one soul.

_Make that two. _

Bakura was dead. He _had_ been dead, but somehow, the thought failed to register in the teen's convoluted mind until the moment he saw the weathered tablet—containing the Sennen ring, _his_ ring—fall into the dark abyss below. For some irrational reason, he kept thinking that Bakura would make a miraculous return (he said he was the "darkness," didn't he?) and the whole cycle of the Pharaoh restoring the peace would start all over again.

But Ryou, stupid Ryou, watched dumbfounded as the Sennen ring was dragged to hell. It was all over, and somehow, he didn't want it to be. It would mean his life would resume to just like any other average person's, dull and bleak and monotonous.

Ryou gasped for another intake of muggy air, jolts of pain dragging throughout his exhausted body.

_This isn't real._

He couldn't let his thoughts extend much past that. Otherwise, the pain feeding off him like a parasite would multiply by a hundredfold.

But Ryou knew that it wasn't his utter lack of athletic ability that caused him to struggle to keep up with his counterparts. Actually, he was a pretty good runner, considering he had been running away from things all of his life.

The terrifying fact was, though, Ryou felt these chains, as if they were physically there, clasping around his ankles, his wrists, and tugging him back to the heart of all the chaos. Begging for him to come back.

_You belong here_, he could hear the seductive whisper, _amidst all the destruction and buried memories…put your soul to rest, Ryou, you are nothing without __**him**__._

"Bakura, _help_," Ryou gasped in a strangled voice. He wasn't thinking when he said it, and immediately hated himself for the one name that slipped so easily from him. He prayed no one heard. It was wedged between his unsteady wheezing for air, smothered into nothingness by other deafening sounds— the crashing, the crumbling, the screams of the heart beating inside burning chests—so it was likely no one heard his plea.

But Yuugi spared a glance over his shoulder, making Ryou wonder if he heard him. His eyes were always a mirror, always so easy to read his thoughts in those twilight-plum eyes. But this time, they were relatively blank, masked over with exhaustion.

_What are you thinking, Yuugi? Did you know that I'm hurting too?_

There was sweat coating Yuugi's face, but Ryou was pretty certain that mixed with it were tears, glistening like diamonds amongst the dirt streaking his face. Self-consciously, Ryou wiped at his face hastily with the back of his hand, praying traitorous tears were not dripping from his own eyes. _I can't let anyone know that I didn't want him to go. Yuugi is entitled to show his pain, but I know I'm not._

The moment soon passed, and Yuugi turned his attention back to escaping the cave.

Ryou wondered if it was normal to be feeling such agony—not that he was ever normal to begin with. But did Yuugi feel the icy hostility of realization, that distinct feeling of sudden, cold emptiness, in knowing that one part of his soul had been ripped away from him?

Although, Atem had been unflaggingly kind to Yuugi, while Bakura had been, well, a cryptic jungle of contradicting actions. He was always enigmatic about how he regarded his host, from disregarding the pain he inflicted on him to making him feel—

_I can't let myself finish that thought. _

Ryou remembered that it wasn't too long ago when he envisioned just this moment. The day when he was officially free from Bakura, and regaining complete control of his body would be a reality for the rest of his life. Then why wasn't he rejoicing? Why couldn't he bring himself to keep up with the others, why did he feel like there were chains wanting to drag him back to retrieve a ring that was probably forever gone?

_I feel empty._

He kept expecting Bakura to steal control of his body, snarling, "_I'm taking over Landlord, this is obviously something you aren't capable of handling on your own_," but it was never said maliciously. No, Bakura spoke in a sort of code. The taunts and jeers that were usually thrown at him almost seemed to be his own form of twisted affection. Or so Ryou guessed. Even up to the last time he spoke with the spirit of the ring, he was never able to solve the riddle in understanding him.

Ryou was tempted to slow down considerably, just to see if Bakura would assume control.

_Please save me. _

But there was no response, and Ryou felt ashamed that he actually thought something would happen. That Bakura's commanding and arrogant drawl would resound in his mind, demand he try harder. Maybe even mock him. "_Is that really the best you can do? Running should be right up your alley, you put up a damn good fight trying to run from me that one night—you thought fleeing to the church would save you, remember? But someone should have told you, you can't run from something that's __**inside**__ you."_

Ryou remembered that night vividly, as clear as the scar trailing across his forearm as a reminder of the hallucinogenic moment that slipped by in that church. A "souvenir," as Bakura called it, with his eyes glittering with wild amusement. He remembered the burning, the pain floating to his mind as a lazy afterthought.

_It was the night you said I had officially fallen. From what, exactly? You seemed so pleased, proud even. _

Ryou forced himself to keep running with the group, to at least put up some fight. He could see the entrance of the cave, and the stone steps leading up to it. He could see that faint trickle of inviting light, reaching out for him.

And he knew, even before he saw the exit, that he wasn't ready to leave.

* * *

_/Flashback/_

_

* * *

_

Fog hung heavily over Domino City like a tangible gush of plasma the night when Bakura returned to Ryou.

The teen was walking home from the grocery store, making the trip upon discovering that nothing resided in his small apartment fridge other than a half-consumed pint of milk, a lonely container of yogurt, and ketchup. Ryou figured that at some point, he needed to have a decent meal. He was pretty sure he couldn't live off of graham crackers forever. Besides, he enjoyed going out late at night, when not many people were around and everything quieted down to a gentle hum.

It was when Ryou looked up to the sky, to observe that unusual blood-orange moon that hung heavily above the city, that he heard the faintest whisper. Or was it the wind? The wind, which ran its icy fingers through Ryou's hair, grazing over his skin to compel his hair to stand on end.

"…_Too long_…" he heard, a soft voice becoming more real by the second. "_It's been too long_…"

Ryou sucked in his breath sharply. Tentatively, he ran his fingers over his chest, where the Sennen ring used to be, and wildly shook his head.

"I'm _imagining_ things," he insisted to himself, though he wasn't quite sure why he was speaking out loud, "This isn't real!"

"_Oh?_" the voice mused. It was that tone of voice that instantly confirmed Ryou's fears. He knew who it was, he knew who was capable of containing so much wicked amusement within just a single syllable…

"_Who are you trying to convince…Landlord?_"

"No!" Ryou exploded. He allowed his grocery bag to slip from his arms before shooting off in a sprint. Buildings and houses flew past him in one continuous stream as he forced himself to run as fast as his legs would let him. "No, no, no! Not this again, _please_!"

Peals of laughter exploded in the air, pounding within Ryou's very being. It made his head hurt.

"_You can't run, Landlord!_" Bakura said in wicked delight, "_Not from me!_"

For a second Ryou lost his footing, slipping on a stray beer can that lingered in an empty alley. He crumpled to his knees, cursing himself, before breaking into hysterics.

"Leave me alone!" he yelled, clutching the sides of his head. "I don't want to take a part in anything you do anymore!"

"_Oh, but you __**promised**__ me_," the spirit replied, feigning hurt. "_Don't you keep your promises, Landlord? In exchange for your body, I said I would_—"

"I don't care!" Ryou snapped. He jumped up and began running again. He wasn't sure where, but he was pretty certain there was a church up ahead, maybe someone was in there who could help him…

Ryou heard a soft chuckle. "_Fine, if you want to flee to a church, go ahead. Not that it'll help much_," Bakura added. "_But I suppose I've got a little time to burn until you calm down_."

Ryou finally saw the church coming into view. It looked so sickly under the moon's hazy glow. Desperately, the white-haired teen burst through the doors, his eyes scanning the large, hollow room for anyone. Ryou's shoulders sagged as he realized not a single soul was in there.

"_Are you finished?_" Bakura piped up. He sounded like he was enjoying Ryou's meltdown a bit too much.

Ryou ignored him, stalking down the aisle, his mind racing. Why did Bakura have to come back to him? The devious spirit always brought out the teen's worst side and turned him into a person who couldn't be trusted by his friends. As the few months slipped by without Bakura in his life, Ryou decided that he was through being seduced by all the lies and weightless promises the spirit dangled in front of him. He didn't want to go back to the way things were between them…

"How are you able to be here without the ring?" Ryou finally demanded. His voice rang out as hollow as the room itself, echoing and then fading away.

"_Would you like to guess?_" the spirit taunted.

"No! Is this a game to you?" Ryou could feel his hands shaking.

"_Sort of_," Bakura answered, "_but I'll humor you anyway, since I've missed your incessant whining so much. We are inextricably intertwined, you and I, not only because you are my reincarnated other half, but because I planted a piece of my soul into you_."

Ryou face-faulted. "You—you what?"

"_Don't worry about it_," was the casual reply. "_All that matters is that I'm here now, and hopefully I won't have to suffer another inconvenience of being torn from my host's body_."

Ryou shuddered. "I want to be done with you," he said lowly, "I want you out of my life!"

"_Is that really how you greet your other half?"_ Bakura sighed mockingly. "_It's been—what?—three months and you can't even manage a civil 'hello'?_"

"Don't…don't talk to me about _civility_, Bakura, you tore my life to pieces without even an ounce of guilt." Ryou ensured his voice came across as steady and completely reasonable; he wanted Bakura to know that stroking him with his feigned charm would be useless, that he wanted absolutely nothing to do with him and that damned ring…

That was when Bakura finally materialized before Ryou's stunned eyes. He wore the same clothing as his lighter half, sporting the usual striped shirt and faded jeans, yet exuded an entirely different persona merely through expression and demeanor. He smugly crossed his arms in front of himself.

"_Stupid Landlord_," Bakura sighed, shaking his head slowly. "_The same as ever. When are you finally going to stop resisting me?_"

"Why are you here?" Ryou asked flatly. He desperately hoped he concealed the shakiness he felt on the inside well enough. Actually looking at the spirit was causing his barriers to crumble, layer by layer.

"_You ask questions, yet you already know the answer_," Bakura jeered lightly as he took a purposeful stride toward his host. The flickering candles splattered wavering shadows across the spirit's face, meshing with his transparent skin. His eyes appeared to be glowing amidst the darkness.

Ryou took an instinctive step back, bumping into a candelabra residing behind him.

"_You shouldn't be scared_," Bakura soothed. He took another step, staring at the teen intently. "_I take good care of my host. Haven't I always protected you?_"

"I don't want anything from you," Ryou answered. He held back a tremor that coursed through his body. "Everything has been going perfectly without you."

Bakura broke out into a wolfish grin. "_I happen to know_," he started, "_that you have a secret loathing towards perfection. Am I right? It's too—oh, what's the right word?—__**boring**_."

Just that easily, Ryou was thrown off-guard as he scrambled for a response. "How do you—"

"_So how's it really been at your quiet, little apartment?_" Bakura essayed. He inwardly smiled, knowing he was hitting a sore spot. "_Has your miserable father decided to drop by every once in a while? Or how about any of your friends, hm? Any visits from them?_"

Ryou glowered, while Bakura waited patiently for a response. The shadows swirled seductively across the floor, swaying with the flickering light.

The teen finally caved in.

"Why did you have to come back?" Ryou asked quietly, looking away. "I was getting my life back together again, I was—"

A firm hand clasped over his mouth, immediately cutting him off. Bakura drew in closer to his lighter half, staring into those wide, horrified eyes.

"_Allow me to straighten some things out_," he said. "_You need me as much as I need you_."

For a few long moments, the two studied one another's features, one with sly, calculating eyes, while the other looked on with fear, confliction.

"_I need your cooperation, Landlord_," the spirit coaxed gently, "_I need __**you**_." He carefully removed his hand, oxygen once more rushing into Ryou's aching lungs. The teen gasped in air, desperate to erase the feeling of choking. His throat was constricted so tightly, his whole body throbbing with an unidentifiable pain. Nothing could free Ryou from the paralysis that took hold of him.

"_Well, Landlord?"_ the spirit probed, "_Will you help me?_"

Ryou wrapped his arms around himself, revolted at what he knew his response would be. What it would _have_ to be.

He tilted his head to catch a better glimpse of Bakura's face, to see the sharp line of his jaw, the secretive curve to his lips. He had a maddening air of certainty about him that made it nearly impossible to resist.

_Why can't I ever say no to you?_

He turned his head away, defeated.

"What…do you need me to do?" he gently asked. Ryou hated himself at that moment, shame flooding his senses instead of suffocation. He was betraying Yuugi, he knew he was, and what sort of friend did that make him? He was agreeing to help the enemy.

And that was exactly why Ryou feared being in the spirit's presence. He knew that only Bakura could sway him to bend at his will. He wasn't sure why, but it was more than just the unspoken threat the spirit might have been…

Bakura looked manically pleased, his eyes caressing Ryou's features.

"_Oh, you have fallen __**far**_," he murmured approvingly, his voice low and reverberating heavily in his chest. "_The 'Change of Heart' card truly suits you well._"

Ryou edged away again, disgust eating away at his heart. Its acidity burned deep, scorching past his skin.

Bakura reached out to grab his lighter half's wrist, holding it up against the dim lights. He let out a dark chuckle. "_Have you not noticed the candle burning into your flesh? Really, Landlord, you should take better care of yourself_."

Ryou blinked incredulously at his arm, which was indeed branded with a raw, new injury. He hadn't realized he had backed so close against the rows of candles, his skin being singed with a forgotten flame. The internal pain had meshed so well with the external, Ryou failed to notice.

_What's the matter with me?_ _Why am I reacting this way?_ He pulled his arm out of his darker half's grasp, letting his wounded arm fall loosely at his side.

Bakura grabbed onto the collar of the teen's jacket and drew him in. Their faces were inches apart, and once more Ryou could feel burning. Was it his skin or was it all in his head…?

"_Now_," he said, his breath warm and brushing against Ryou's face, "_I need a proper burial ground for when I kill the Pharaoh. __**That's**__ where you come in, Landlord_."

Immediately Ryou knew that his darker half was referring to the construction of an RPG playing field. As Bakura once said, no one could match the teen's skills when it came to the immaculate, precise detail he poured into every inch of the game's foundation.

And now Bakura wanted him to create the final battleground between Pharaoh and tomb thief—the ultimate coffin.

The spirit of the ring brought his lips to his host's ear. "_Will you do it?_"

A shudder exploded through Ryou's body. It was so wrong, so horribly wrong to be betraying everything he once stood for (not to mention his betrayal of _Yuugi's_ trust…), and yet…and yet…

Ryou tilted his head up to the high church ceiling, hearing the deep, resonant bell signaling the late hours of the night. It rang throughout the church, seeping into Ryou's soul as a grim warning.

_Don't do it, don't do it, don't do it…_

Ryou closed his eyes, two small tears dragging slowly down his face. They glittered faintly in the quivering candlelight.

"Yes."

* * *

_/End of flashback/_

_

* * *

_

"Come on, Bakura! What the hell are you waiting for?" It was Jounouchi's voice, ripping Ryou abruptly out of his thoughts. The blonde's eyes were impatient, fearful that Ryou would get trapped among all the destruction. Everyone was at least ten paces ahead of the staggering teen, who had just noticed the gaping distance.

Ryou felt his muscles protesting as he sped up. A dense chunk of stone fell from the ceiling, just barely missing his arm. He glanced up at Jounouchi with tired eyes.

"I don't think I can make it."

"What?" Jounouchi called over his shoulder. He frowned. "I can't hear you with all this noise! Just keep moving!"

A spurt of pain shot up Ryou's leg as he realized he had slightly twisted his ankle from missing his footing. He winced, a rhythmic jolt shocking him every time he took a new stride. The desire to just stop and let the earthquake overtake him was strong, and persistently prodded Ryou's mind.

And then there was that feeling of being imprisoned again, invisible cuffs clasped around the teen's ankles, linking with it chains that stretched far back to where the broken tablet resided. Where the Sennen ring resided. He could feel that firm tugging against his movement, begging, pleading for him to come back.

_Your life doesn't stretch past your fate with the ring…_ Ryou heard the invisible ghosts of the cave whisper, _What future lies ahead of you after this?_

That was when a poisonous idea came to Ryou again, and this time he considered it seriously.

Was it really so wrong to want to give up?

* * *

_/Flashback/_

_

* * *

_

Bakura was perched at the edge of Ryou's bed. As always. The room hummed in silence while Ryou lied there on his back, staring at the ceiling. It was another sleepless night. Ryou admitted that he held a strange fondness towards the darkness in the growing late hours, although he wasn't quite sure why. Aside from the desired solitude the darkness often brought with it, it was something that should have been feared, not admired.

Despite his poor night vision, Ryou _could_ see his darker half. He could always see him, no matter what. There was usually an understood silence between the two, one falling into slumber while the other…while the other what, exactly? Ryou wasn't sure what his darker half did while sitting there, stony and unreadable. When Bakura didn't need his body, he usually allowed Ryou control, but was often materialized somewhere nearby. Maybe it was his way of protecting his host, certain that Ryou was a walking magnet for disaster. But this was only Ryou's speculation.

Tonight though, Ryou didn't want to follow their usual pattern of silence. Ever since Bakura regained partial possession over his host's body, Ryou found it hard to believe that he was actually _there_. It was just like all those other times when Ryou went to bed, him drifting off to sleep while Bakura sat there stoically. Following last night, their interaction with one another proceeded as if nothing had changed. Admittedly, Ryou knew he felt some sort of loneliness during the spirit's extended absence, even though Bakura tossed at him more grievances than anything.

But Ryou's mind was gravitating to their encounter at the church, when Bakura was thrust back into his life so unexpectedly…

It wasn't necessarily a pleasant experience, but it stirred some sleeping emotion that was buried in the crevices of Ryou's mind. Bakura was so impulsive, and it always left Ryou spinning when trying to predict what the Egyptian spirit's next move would be. It threw his sense of balance, his desperate need for some sort of control, right off the beaten path. And at the same time, it made him feel _alive_, like he was no longer floating through life as simply as a fallen leaf in a stream. He would never openly admit this, but he derived some sort of pleasure when chaos struck. When Bakura revisited Ryou for his body, despite the fear and anger there was also a sense of relief. The cycle of monotony would be broken, and Bakura would be back in his life again, acting on whims and wreaking havoc.

Did that make him sick? Was it normal to have a secret desire for unpredictability and danger?

_Of course it's not normal. What's wrong with me?_

He folded his arms behind his head, his mind whirring in thought. _Well,_ _let me be impulsive too_.

"Bakura."

The spirit barely made an indication of acknowledging him, instead emitting a disinterested "_Hmm_."

"What's our relationship to each other?"

Bakura didn't miss a beat. "_What a stupid question. Host and parasite_."

"Do you know what the other Yuugi's response would have been, if Yuugi asked him that?" Ryou prompted. He carefully adjusted himself to prop his head, a tad restlessly. "Partners."

"_The Pharaoh is a __**moron**_," Bakura asserted with a scoff. He steadily drummed his fingers on his knee.

The teen recoiled from this statement and sighed. Bakura wasn't even looking at him. If only he could find out what he was thinking, then maybe he wouldn't be so difficult to understand–what went on in that head of his?

"Why is the other Yuugi a moron?" Ryou pressed. "Why is it stupid that he has some sort of normal, _healthy_ relationship with his other half?"

That partially snagged a bit of the spirit's attention. He turned his head slightly, frowning.

Ryou's fingertips began to gently graze over the quilt thrown across his bed, absently slipping them back and forth as his mind lurched to the other night. In that small chapel, when there wasn't a soul in there save from him and the spirit, something seemed to have snapped with Ryou. Agreeing to help Bakura meant far more to him than building a playing field, he realized that now. It was also the beginning to this terrifying feeling that had seeded itself in the core of his being, taking root so far into Ryou's soul he knew he couldn't weed it out. And with every passing second he spent with his darker half, this fatal vine grew, slowly coiling around Ryou and binding him to the spirit.

He was horrified of this involuntary connection he was feeling towards Bakura. It paralyzed him with fear, yet at the same time it excited him. His own makeshift adrenaline was surging through his veins, and it made him crave more from Bakura. _I need more._

Hadn't Bakura realized what he had done? Perhaps intentionally, he had singlehandedly caused Ryou to officially break off his allegiance from Yuugi's group. But perhaps unintentionally, he also caused Ryou to form some sort of toxic connection with him. Disdainfully, he realized that it didn't take much to fall completely under this spell Bakura was casting over him.

He remembered, with excruciating detail, the tiny movements that wiped away his logic.

Hot breath against his neck. (/"_Landlord_."/)

A low murmur reaching his ear. (/"_Will you help me?_"/)

That deep gaze, probing into his soul. (/"_You need me as much as I need you_"/)

Ryou was on fire. The flush across his cheeks had spread down his body, making him ache and hurt from the memory.

He finally sat up, the sheets slipping off his thin, pale body.

"I'm..._confused_, Bakura," Ryou confessed hesitantly. "What…what _are_ we…?"

Bakura's gaze indifferently trailed over to his host, eying him up and down slowly. "_What the hell are you talking about_." His flat tone made Ryou flinch. The spirit lifted an eyebrow, daring him to say his unspoken theory.

Ryou's hand went still against the quilt. He bit his lip hard, using the pain as a buffer to the sting of his darker half's words. In the back of his mind, he knew that whatever Bakura did the other night was just a way to make him, the landlord, all the more compliant. To obey unflaggingly, with no questions asked. If Bakura needed an RPG playing field built, all it would take was a well-framed plea, maybe a soft touch or two…

It was foolish to think that Bakura saw Ryou as anything more than a tool to accomplish his mission.

Ryou closed his eyes. "Never mind," he said softly, blowing out a controlled stream of air between his lips. "I guess I don't know what I'm getting at." He settled back down in his bed, dully noting how utterly stupid he was.

Feeling anything for the spirit of the ring other than contempt would be nothing but a slow and painful suicide.

Bakura remained wordless while observing his host, perhaps with a hint of curiosity.

Silence reigned once more.

Ryou gazed up at the ceiling, wondering why his heart ached to the point where it was nearly unbearable.

_I hate myself so much, _the teen thought with heartbreaking sincerity_, I hate the way I can't control myself around __**him**__, I hate the way I'm feeling, I hate–_

Abruptly, Bakura's hand shadowed across Ryou's, making him jump. Ignoring the teen's gasp, he flattened both their hands out, his transparent skin laying flush against his host's. They were exactly the same size, long and narrow, entirely identical.

Bakura carefully slid down his hand to trace a line stretched across the inside of his lighter half's palm.

"_We share a similar fate, you know_," he said casually, his eyes transfixed on their hands. He lightly tapped the inner corner of Ryou's palm, between his thumb and index finger. "_This line right here—we both have it—says we are destined to __**fight**_." Ryou could feel that touch searing into him, absently running back over the line that was identified.

Bakura lifted his gaze to meet up with Ryou's, his expression unreadable. "_It's both invigorating and terrifying to think about. From the moment we are brought into this world until the moment we leave it_, _we are going to be fighting for someone or something, whether we like it or not._"

Ryou's heart began to pound furiously, bursts of nervousness shooting throughout his body. It wasn't right, normal, or _healthy_ (just like Yuugi and the Pharaoh's relationship), the way he would get so flustered with just a single touch.

"I'm not a fighter," he at last responded. The fact that Bakura even proposed such a thing was beyond absurd, compelling Ryou to want to question his sanity.

His darker half lifted his eyebrows, letting their hands slip apart. "_You're not_," he agreed. A smirk darkened his features. "_At least on the outside._"

Suddenly, Bakura lithely swung his legs over Ryou, straddling him, staring down at him with his intense mahogany eyes. The flecks of crimson seemed brighter, like sparks. The heels of the spirit's hands were digging firmly into the teen's chest, pinning him down against the crumpled sheets. Ryou could see his own chest palpitating and shuddering from fierce blood pumping through his veins, fiery panic triggering a knee-jerk reaction.

"Get off of me!" he instinctively hissed, shoving his darker half off his body with surprising force.

Bakura caught his balance easily, his sneer widening.

"'_Not a fighter'…?_" he drawled slowly. He folded his arms over his torso, leaning in challengingly. Ryou could feel the spirit's breath burning into skin, distantly remembering how his body burned the same way last night.

"_Landlord_," he whispered, watching Ryou cringe away, "_I_ _would say that you __**are**_."

* * *

_/End of flashback/_

_

* * *

_

_Where is that fighting spirit you said that I have?_ Ryou wondered, the memory stabbing him in the back. He clenched his fists. _Where?_

He had never felt so weak in his life. His legs weren't working right, they had somehow transformed into gelatin, wobbling and shuddering under his weight. And his lungs were on fire, heaving to grasp onto any relief from the internal burning that made him want to fall to the ground and wait for death to come. Put him out of his misery.

_I thought you said you were always right. _

This time Bakura wasn't. As Ryou stumbled through the collapsing walls of the cave with his friends scrambling not too far ahead, he couldn't help but think how easy it would be to just fall back and let the cave consume him.

_I am not a fighter._

Just the mere thought of returning back to his apartment later and continuing with the ritual that usually followed—changing into more comfortable clothes, perhaps fixing a small meal, going to bed—made Ryou feel sick. He could see himself laying in bed, staring up at the ceiling for hours, without anyone to communicate his thoughts to. He didn't speak much with Bakura, especially during his final days, but the mere comfort in knowing that there was at least someone with him at all times made him feel complete. Ryou could see his previous life before Bakura picking right back up where he left off, fading into the crowd without a person to at least say "hello" to. Yuugi and his friends would want nothing to do with him, he speculated.

Was that how his life was going to be from now on, going through the motions while being trapped in his own invisible cage? Would he be one of those people who felt sincere joy at the first person to even look at him and acknowledge his existence?

It looked like his letters to Amane would have to start up again. She, of course, would listen, even though a response from her would never be possible. But at least she was once alive, and that had to count for something, right?

_I think that's why I've always admired the occult_, Ryou thought distantly. _To know that the dead still can interact with this world…to know that they never really disappear…_

"We're almost there!" Anzu shouted with relief. They were only a short distance away from the cave's opening, and Ryou could already see how bright the sun was outside. It invaded the surrounding darkness, chasing it all out with its warm glow.

_But I want the darkness to stay_, Ryou realized, with a surge of desperation. _I don't want to go out there, and let everyone see the pain on my face and know that I'm a traitor… _

Ryou took comfort in one small fact. No matter how much the light may reveal the truth, no one would ever truly know what a large role the teen took in helping the spirit of the Sennen ring.

Did they know he built the final battlefield entirely by hand?

Did they know Bakura talked him into it? All it took was a little bit of candy-coated affection, really. It didn't matter it was probably an act.

And did they know, despite Ryou's awareness of this painful detail, that he still _wanted_ to?

As Ryou was seconds away from bursting out of the cave and into the sunlight, he knew he had reached a breaking point, and no amount of logic was ever going to pull him back again.

* * *

_/Flashback/_

_

* * *

_

The playing field was finally complete.

Ryou's eyes scanned critically over the board game, searching for any sort of flaw. It took him countless of hours and virtually no sleep to finish this mountainous task within such a short span of time.

Bakura gave him a week, yet Ryou had everything completed within three days. He wanted to prove to the spirit that he was capable of surpassing even his expectations. A small smile formed on his lips as he brushed off a tiny wood shaving off the board. It was perfect.

And Ryou hated perfection, but this was different. Building the RPG field would somehow prove his value, at least to himself. Bakura asked for his help, and despite the fervent protests and sentiments of revulsion, Ryou knew it was a request he wouldn't turn down. He sought out approval from a spirit who would probably never give it.

Gazing across the stretch of Egyptian landscape, Ryou's eyes caught on the figurine that represented Yuugi. Bakura wouldn't be needing the carved out replicas, of course, but Ryou kept the miniatures around because truthfully, he held a sort of strange fascination with them. They looked so real, and apart from this battlefield he had just constructed, they were his best work.

His fingers lightly brushed over the Yuugi replica, tracing over the delicate features of his face. The gentle curve of his lips mirrored exactly how his friend smiled in real life.

Ryou flinched. How could he rightfully call Yuugi that if he willingly agreed to construct the final battlegrounds that would inevitably throw everyone's life in danger? Guilt washed over the teen as he lowered his head.

In the deepest corners of his heart, he knew who his true allegiance was to.

_I'm sorry, Yuugi._

The spirit of the ring was standing behind him. The teen could immediately tell by that slight change in atmosphere and the way shivers ran up his spine.

"_You're finally done_," the spirit observed. He slowly made his way around the table, lightly brushing his hand across the board admiringly. His fingertips ran over a leaf of a miniature palm tree, examining the intricacies with fervent intensity.

"_Not bad, not bad_," he murmured approvingly. His gaze shifted back to Ryou, who returned it steadily.

"_You know, Landlord, this is why we need each other_," he nonchalantly said. Ryou knew the spirit tossed out such random statements without much consideration, yet he couldn't help but grab onto those words and greedily store them into the banks of his memory. "_I pull you out of your miserable life—you know you despise it—and in turn you provide me the assistance when I need it._"

"I'm glad it satisfies you," Ryou answered simply, setting down the paintbrush in his hand. He ignored the flush of pleasure that spread across his face.

"_What would you like in return?_"

The teen hesitated. Truthfully, there were several things he knew he wanted to ask for, but was well aware they were impossible wishes.

So he shook his head a single time. "Nothing."

"_Hm_," Bakura hummed thoughtfully, shooting the RPG board one final look before striding back over to his host. He leaned in close to Ryou's ear, inwardly smirking when he felt him tense up. Tangible heat practically radiated off of his host's body.

Teasingly, Bakura allowed his cheek to lightly brush against the side of Ryou's burning face as he murmured, "_Then_ _well done, Landlord_."

Finished with the conversation, he pulled away with a knowing look ("_Don't think I have no idea how you feel about me…"_), and dissipated into the Sennen ring.

The ancient stillness of the museum room dominated once more, leaving the stunned teen to his thoughts.

Replaying the final words so carelessly thrust at him, he felt a quiet smile curving his lips. (/_"Well done, Landlord."/)_

Ryou felt complete.

* * *

_/End of Flashback/_

_

* * *

_

Ryou squinted up at the sun that wept golden light from the sky. He raised a forearm to shield his eyes, straining to adjust to the painful brightness.

Everyone was now out of the cave, looking back at the ruins with astonished disbelief.

There was an eerie stillness in the air, except for the frantic "_shhhh_" of the wind, as if reminding the teen to stifle the urge to show any despair.

_I know how this part goes,_ Ryou thought blankly. As a person who had drifted so far apart from Yuugi's group with no real allegiance to them, his role was to step aside, fall back into the shadows, and let everyone else pick up the pieces to their lives. This wasn't about _his_ pain, it was about Yuugi's. The great Pharaoh had finally gone to rest, and now everyone can remember him in solemn reverence before moving on.

Ryou felt the drastically cooler air caress his skin, but oddly craved the heat from the cave. At least it made it harder to feel the icy emptiness that stabbed his insides.

"It's finally over—all of it," Jounouchi announced, shattering the silence with his voice. Ryou remembered that Jounouchi hated that awkward gap between spoken words, when thinking became an inevitability. Fully acknowledging the Pharaoh's permanent absence would be too much.

Kaiba sharply turned away. "Thank God," he muttered, rotating his wrist to examine his watch. He could have been looking for scratches, or he could have actually been checking the time—Ryou desperately hoped it was the former. Kaiba adjusted his trench coat, which was covered in patches of dirt, before tilting his head down at Mokuba. "You all right?" he asked in such a low voice it was nearly inaudible. His steely blue eyes briefly examined his brother for any injuries.

Mokuba placed his hands on his hips—a gesture of defiance picked up from his older brother. "Of course," he asserted with a grin.

Anzu made a groaning noise as she slightly rotated her torso to get a better look at her boots. "I destroyed these—I think the heel's going to come off," she said mournfully. "If I knew we'd be running for our lives, I would have been more sensible about my choice in footwear."

"I would have _never_ been able to do that," Otogi asserted. He even managed a smirk. "I think I wouldn't even be here if I had to run out of that hell hole in those."

Ryou's eyes trailed from every person who had fled from the cave, observing their everyday movements and listening to their talk of trivial things. Malik and his small family remained quiet though, possibly in respect for the Pharaoh. Although with Malik, who knew what went on in that head. His intense violet eyes looked impatient, reminding Ryou of a cat being woken out of a nap. Jounouchi was the only one who even came close to alluding to the deceased Pharaoh. But for the most part, the large group buzzed with passing remarks, as if to fill a tangible void.

Ryou knew this might have been an attempt to help divert Yuugi's attention; he noticed the way his friends' eyes would quickly jerk over to him, regarding him as if he were a bomb about to explode. Who knew what would set him off. So they danced around the real subject at hand, being overwhelmingly normal in hopes that it would be easier on Yuugi. Yuugi, whose eyes were downcast, his skin ashen—he looked physically sick. He was clenching his fists, perhaps to cease the tremors washing over his body. Ryou could see his tense muscles, as if holding back the poisonous combination of emotions eating him alive.

As for Ryou, he had to continuously remind himself to mask over any trace of pain. He knew he had to paint the illusion that he was relieved Bakura was gone—no, maybe even _happy_. Ryou felt nausea well up in his stomach, his lungs, every crevice of his body, to think that the emptiness stabbing his insides could potentially be permanent.

Despite his revulsion, he forced a ghost of a smile to shadow over his lips, just for the sake of appearing convincing. _No_ _big deal_, his mind whispered, _you can't possibly hate yourself anymore for your crime than you already do. You __**let**__ them take Bakura away from you. He was __**yours.**__ You were entitled to him—the ring was a gift from your father, so who are they to take it from you? But you let it happen. You let Bakura die. That is why you should hate yourself._

The same feeling of suffocation swelled in his lungs and throat again. The iron fist of realization clenched at his neck, cutting off his air.

_Oh my God, I'm never going to see him again. _

_I never told him what he meant to me. _

The crystal sky began to look like the ocean, ripples shuddering from an unseen tide. Horror seized Ryou when he realized tears were stinging his eyes, contorting his vision. He tilted his head up towards the sun and closed his eyes, hoping to shove his tears back where they belonged; inside. He reverted back to his mantra from earlier, fleeing to denial to mask his true feelings in the presence of judgmental eyes. _This isn't real. _

"We better get going," Anzu finally said, her voice a gentle proposition to the group. With his eyes closed, Ryou thought he could hear the heartbreak in her own voice, concealed with a safer, more neutral tone. In the few years Ryou knew Anzu, it was obvious how she felt about the Pharaoh—in the end, her feelings were never communicated. It probably didn't take her long to realize the other Yuugi was too driven and single-minded to concern himself with a romantic prospect. So she feigned satisfaction with the friendship she shared with him, not daring to pursue anything further.

_Or_ _maybe she was smart_, Ryou thought, still keeping his eyes closed, _maybe she realized that the Pharaoh's presence was only temporary and she would only be hurting herself if she allowed herself to get too close. Unlike me. I wanted to distance myself from Bakura–I wanted to hate him– but I just couldn't do it. I deserve to suffer. _

"Bakura?" Ryou's eyes snapped open, focusing on the explosion of black hair and electric green eyes that faced him. Otogi. He hoped his tears had vanished by now.

"Yes?" How fragile he sounded! He should have tried harder to sound less broken.

"We're leaving." Otogi's voice was hesitant, carrying an unspoken question: _Why are you lingering behind? _To Ryou's surprise, the majority of the group was already a considerable distance ahead. Ryou's gaze met up with Otogi's, noticing the probing they were doing across his face. Ryou looked away. He couldn't allow him to see.

"_It only takes a single glance_," Bakura had once whispered into his hair from behind, "_for me to read everything that goes on in that mind of yours._" It was the last time Ryou spoke with him.

Another wave of nausea lapped at Ryou's insides, rising to the back of his throat. He swayed slightly.

"Whoa!" Otogi exclaimed, placing a hand on Ryou's back to steady him, "You all right?" His eyebrows pinched together as he examined the pale teen.

Ryou felt himself nodding his head. His mind was spinning slowly, like a music box winding down to its final last notes.

Otogi gazed at Ryou for a prolonged second before turning away and rejoining the group. He briefly glanced back over his shoulder at the teen but just as quickly flicked his attention back to Honda who had asked him a question.

"No, Honda, you may not have the window seat," Otogi growled threateningly, "you had it the last time!"

"Wanna fight me for it?" Honda retorted, raising a fist.

Chaos temporarily ensued, egged on by Honda and Otogi lunging at one another until Anzu yelled at them to knock it off. A few other enraged cries rang out until the peace was finally restored and everything lulled back down to silence.

_Is this my life now?_ Ryou wondered, gazing impassively at the moving shadows ahead of him, stretched long and thin from the slanted sun. _Is my whole existence an irrelevant afterthought…?_

In Ryou's mind, he could see his darker half, staring haughtily at him, his head cocked in amusement.

"_You are a __**fighter**__, Landlord_," Bakura whispered viciously, his eyes wild and alive, "_don't you dare let these bastards weigh your worth. They are the afterthoughts to __**your**__ life, never the other way around."_

Impulsively, Ryou began to laugh. He shook his head doubtfully at the imagined spirit.

"If I could have even half your confidence, I'd be a lot better off," he said to the ground. He wanted Bakura's passion, his independence, his survival instinct. Ryou had none of these things.

"_Don't_ _let them smother you_," Bakura continued, his voice growing louder with his anger, "_don't let them win._"

"Bakuraaaa!" Jounouchi, Honda, and Anzu called out in unison. Ryou could see Anzu lifting up her arm high in the sky and waving him over. Even Yuugi quietly glanced over at Ryou. The white-haired teen couldn't see him very well, but could tell his eyes were silently storming, trying to reconcile the hollowness that tore him apart.

The small group lingered as they waved Ryou over.

"Does that guy need a leash or something?" Ryou heard Honda laugh over to Anzu. "He's going to disappear if we take our eyes off him for too long!"

"_Damn fool_," Ryou's envisioned-Bakura scoffed. "_At least you don't need a muzzle. He does_."

Ryou broke out into a fit of uncontrollable, quiet laughter, doubling over slightly while clasping a hand over his mouth. Bakura really had to learn to stop throwing insults at people as often as he breathed.

"Is he _laughing?_" Jounouchi demanded incredulously, raising a hand to his eyes to see better in the blinding Egyptian sun.

"I think so," Honda replied, shaking his head. "He must be happy that the spirit of the ring is finally gone. Poor guy."

"Come on, Bakura!" Anzu called out. "You're so far behind!" The gap between the frail teen (so thin, he just might dissolve into the weightless air...) and the group seemed to have grown wider, stretching into a sea of wasteland.

Then, a thought struck Ryou.

He smiled.

He wiped away the trail of sweat prickling his forehead. The nausea in his stomach was beginning to subside. "I'm coming," Ryou at last replied, slightly calmer, not sure if the group could hear him or not. He began to walk towards them, ignoring the way the sand beneath his feet seemed to be pulling him down as if there were hands grasping his ankles.

"Oh, Bakura," Anzu laughed, affectionately watching the teen stumble towards them, "He's so hopeless."

"Yeah," Jounouchi agreed with a slight grin, before continuing to walk ahead. He placed his hand on Yuugi's shoulder, redirecting his attention to the mute teen.

After waiting for Ryou to get closer for a few more seconds, the group proceeded to move along the pathless ground.

Ryou followed them—still behind, he was always behind—for an extended period in silence.

The imaginary Bakura reappeared again, casually trailing after the teen with his arms stretched behind his head.

"_So you're really going back with them, huh?_" he mused. "_Admit it—you'll miss me_."

"Not really," Ryou replied nonchalantly. A secretive smile spread across his lips again.

"_Hm._"

"Are you…are you disappointed?"

"_I'm curious to know what your thoughts are_."

"I thought you said you could just look at me and know what I'm thinking."

"_I really don't care all that much to go through the effort. Humor me anyway._"

"Well, I was thinking about what you said a while back," Ryou said lightly, brushing the bangs out of his eyes. "You know, about me being a 'fighter.'"

"_Yes, and?_"

"And I've decided you're right."

"_Oh…?_"

"Yes," Ryou confirmed, noticing that the gap between him and the group had grown once more, "because I'm going to do one thing that will prove it."

"_For your own wretched sake, make sure it's nothing stupid_."

An emotion that felt odd to be brimming within him because it had been so long—_joy_—made Ryou bite back a smile, as he slowed to a stop.

"_Landlord._"

"I'm going to fight, I'm going to fight to get the ring back," the teen revealed somewhat proudly. "I've decided that I'm going to go back there and unbury you, and—"

"_Shut_ _up. That's stupid. The items are gone, I'm dead_—"

"No!" Ryou shouted, his bubble of joy bursting as he broke away from the group. He shot off into a run, retracing the steps he had just followed, heading back for the destroyed cave.

No one noticed.

Ryou fled to his destination, his feet kicking up stray pebbles and particles of sand. Tears began to muddle his vision. "I'm going to _find_ you, Bakura, and things can go back to just the way they were…"

There was a brief pause.

"_You're talking to me now_."

Ryou stumbled, logic temporarily flooding back to him. He took in a few labored breaths, his hand brushing over where the Sennen ring would have been. Instead his fingertips came into contact with his soiled t-shirt, slightly damp from running.

The wind slipped by despairingly, releasing a mindful "_shhhhhhh_." _Don't cry Ryou, you can't let anyone hear you…_

"You're not real…" Ryou finally replied softly, the reality of loneliness chilling his bones in the sweltering summer air. "And I need you to be."

He couldn't go back to his black-and-white, TV-dinner life, there was no way he could stare at the empty end of his bed and realize how alone he really was.

The imaginary Bakura stared at his once-host soundlessly, his usual piercing, mocking gaze melting into something foreign.

Sadness.

His apparition finally dissolved in the air, being carried away with the sighing wind.

Ryou pushed himself to run even faster, floundering desperately to return to the cave where Bakura was buried. He would remove every broken pillar, every human-sized boulder if he had to, he was going to reach the fallen tablet and retrieve what was rightfully his.

He _was_ a fighter, (Bakura was always right), and he was going to struggle his way through any obstacle to drag his darker half's ass straight out of hell. Bakura would then throw curses at him, taunt him, probably cause more harm than good, but at least the cycle of Ryou's monotonous life would be broken forever.

And most importantly, he would have Bakura's companionship forever. He would never feel alone.

"_You need me as much as I need you_," Bakura had once asserted with such certainty (an obscure number of days ago), his voice rich, thick, and _just maybe_ the slightest bit affectionate.

Ryou's heart was aching as he reached the cave that resided in ruins, dust particles still filtering out of the entrance. Sucking in a strained breath, Ryou ran through the opening, allowing the heavy air and the swirling projections of sand to surround him, swallow him whole. All he would have to do is follow the path the chains provided. He could see them now, weaving seamlessly down the stone steps and tapering off in the darkness, waiting for the teen to follow.

As his dirt-caked, bleeding hands hysterically tore through innumerable layers of crumbled stone, Ryou knew he had one certainty to cling onto.

Nothing, absolutely _no one_, was going to stop him. The ring was going to be right where it was left last, and the spirit was going to be lurking in there, waiting for Ryou to come get him like the many times before…

_Everything will be back to how it was, right? _

_You'll be waiting for me as I come find you, and you'll be okay…_

_Life isn't worth it if I'm not fighting for you._

A short distance away, a small scrap of shredded gold lay halfway buried in the scorched soil, reflecting dully the dead trickle of light.

* * *

_You know I'll defend  
The tragedy that we knew as  
The end_

_-"Tragedy," Brandi Carlile_

_

* * *

_

A/N: This was impossibly hard to write, so please let me know how I did! Reviews make me smile and give me fuel to crank out more stories :)


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